


the reality of everything

by lunarlilacs



Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Jealousy, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, and so is lucas, eliott is the best boyfriend in the universe, literally so much fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-04 08:41:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18340124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunarlilacs/pseuds/lunarlilacs
Summary: “But, it’s you now. Don’t you see?”A light shake of Lucas’s head by the hands cradling his face softly, a light call-out,can’t you see how in love with you I am?“It’s you. It’s been you since the moment I saw you.”or: lucas gets a little jealous and eliott comforts him. and love. lots of it.





	the reality of everything

**Author's Note:**

> so... skam has sucked me back in. again.
> 
> i really thought i had gotten over it, until skam france rolled around. lucas and eliott and their love stole my heart completely, and since then, i haven't been able to stop thinking of things to write about them.
> 
> as it's been a few months, this little fluffy one-shot probably has way too many errors than i'm willing to admit, so please bear with me. i just wanted to write something fluffy, and was inspired by the theory circulating that the new character sofiane is going to be the french version of mikael. also, i just miss elu.
> 
> please let me know if you like it, i hope you do. if you enjoy softness, little spoon and big spoon versatility, and love, love, love, then you're in the right place. thank you for reading. enjoy <3
> 
> tw: mentions of depression, underage drinking
> 
> title from _night and day_ by virginia woolf.

Tumbling in the door to Eliott’s flat a little after 11pm, Lucas and his boyfriend toed off their shoes, messily piling them by the entryway and throwing their coats off without much care for where they landed.

Neither of them were particularly inebriated. Lucas was a little tipsier than Eliott, given how much of a party animal he was, but he knew Eliott was still coming out of a bit of a low and was drained by social situations a little faster than he was usually. Hence the early return home. Not that Lucas was complaining.

As Eliott began to wander into the living room, typing away at something on his phone, Lucas came up behind him, burying his nose in the back of Eliott’s neck and inhaling his scent as he snaked his arms around Eliott’s middle.

Giggling softly to himself, Eliott tossed his phone onto the couch, sliding his hands and arms to cover Lucas’s own around his tummy, raising his shoulders in that adorable little shrug he did whenever Lucas spooned him.

“Clingy, huh?”

“Mmm,” Lucas simply hummed in response, nuzzling further into Eliott’s neck, stretching on his tip-toes even further to feel more of his boyfriend’s soft messy hair brushing against his face. “You have fun?”

“I always do when I’m with you,” Eliott teased lightly, laying on the flirtation thick but still holding that underlying softness and sincerity in his voice that Lucas loved so much.

In place of replying, Lucas’s soft smile simply spread further, his lips pressing one, two, three pecks onto the exposed skin of Eliott’s shoulder.

Eliott, growing tired of having to crane his neck to direct his voice towards Lucas, used his grip on his arms to tug him gently around to his front, his arms snaking themselves around Lucas’s neck as Lucas’s own grip around Eliott’s waist grew even tighter.

Like clockwork, they were.

“For real though,” Eliott spoke softly to Lucas, leaning his forehead against that of the smaller boy’s, his eyes meeting his lips out of sheer habit at this point, “I did. It was nice to see the boys again. To see you with them, I mean.”

At that, the warm feeling rapidly growing inside Lucas’s tummy faltered a bit, his growing arousal at the sight of his boyfriend looking so gorgeous in his arms halting at the memory of their night.

Eliott, noticing Lucas’s love drunk look faltering, furrowed his eyebrows a little, pressing a bit closer and humming quizzically. Not pressing. Never pressing.

Lucas avoided his gaze, lowering his eyes to the floor and pulling his head slightly away from the older boy’s in response.

The thing was, Lucas met Eliott’s friends that night.

Eliott’s old friends, that is. From before he transferred in his third year.

It wasn’t that Lucas harboured anything negative towards them. The opposite, really. After things had settled into what they were now between Eliott and Lucas, Eliott and Imane began to reach out to each other more. As a newfound member of the boy squad, Eliott fit right into the long-standing dynamic held by the second-year group. He was happy.

Lucas and Eliott had even talked about it.

> After a night out partying with the girls and boys, Lucas and Eliott were holding each other in bed, exchanging slow and lazy kisses that would heat up, then simmer down to softness, then heat up again, then soften.
> 
> At one of their lulls, Lucas’s lips pressing gently over Eliott’s a few times, delivering those cute pecks that made Eliott giggle, Eliott had brought it up.
> 
> How could he not, when Lucas’s very presence gave him a sense of comfort he had never known before then.
> 
> “You know I used to know Imane, right?”
> 
> “Oh, yeah?
> 
> Nothing but comfort. Into the late hours of the evening, wrapped up in each other arms, tangled legs and in between those lazy kisses that didn’t change even after Lucas knew – nothing would _ever_ change the way Lucas kissed Eliott – he shared it with him. His story.
> 
> His past with the boys, his growing infatuation with a particular one, Sofiane, his pursuit, the fallout.
> 
> When his voice began to crack, Lucas pulled him in closer by the back of his neck, saying without words that Eliott had a place to rest on his chest.
> 
> It made his heart swell.
> 
> Resting his cheek against his younger boyfriend’s soft t-shirt, nosing at the exposed skin near the base of his neck and his fingertips tracing along the outline of his boy’s collarbones and up and down gently across Lucas’s arm, raising goosebumps against his skin. Eliott continued.
> 
> With Lucas’s hand carding through his hair, he felt safe. He always felt safe.
> 
> Their hands meeting, fingers toying together only for Eliott to pull them apart and continue tracing abstract designs across his boyfriend’s skin, Eliott shared more of himself than he had been able to in years.
> 
> There, in that bed, in Lucas’s arms, he was always safe.

“I… I just…” Lucas stuttered out, unable to form into words how he was feeling, too worried it would upset or hurt Eliott, which was the very last thing he ever wanted to do.

Moving his arms from where they had crossed behind Lucas’s head, Eliott cradled his boyfriend’s face between his hands.

Gentle, always gentle.

“What is it, baby?” His kind, blue-grey eyes searching for the younger one’s gaze, filled with worry and concern and _love_ , love, love.

Lucas knew he shouldn’t be hurt. He knew the jealousy that panged in his gut at the sight of Sofiane and Eliott laughing together was irrational.

Eliott _loved_ him. And he loved Eliott.

He was more sure of that than anything else in the world.

But, he was tipsy, and still young, and the sight of the older, more chiseled, more grown-up, more confident, more, more, more boy made that small insecure part of him shrink, his heart aching a little in reaction.

“Sofiane…” at his name, Lucas lifted his gaze to finally meet Eliott’s, searching for some sort of reaction out of him, feeling out the boundaries before continuing so as not to overstep, not to hurt him. He was met with nothing more than the same stable, concerned, _present_ look by his boyfriend. “Is it… was, was it him? In the video?”

That was his first thought, upon laying his eyes on the older boy.

His defined jawline, his deep brown eyes, his build. He looked like the boy from Polaris. The boy Eliott had drawn in his film.

And that, more than anything else, is what made that insecurity grow.

The thought that Eliott’s movie, the one that had become theirs, their beginning and their middle and their end that would never come – that moment of the beginning of their love, immortalized on film – it wasn’t him. Eliott didn’t draw him.

He knew it was silly. Eliott hadn’t even known him then.

But Eliott, Eliott knew too.

Eliott knew how much Lucas struggled, how deeply-rooted his abandonment issues ran. How deeply-rooted his trauma was. And, no matter how silly Lucas’s insecurities seemed to Lucas, they were still his. They were still valid. And they always deserved to be treated as such.

_He_ always deserved to be treated as such.

“Lucas, you mean my movie?” Softness lacing his voice, no sense of hostility, defense, malice. Nothing but softness. Softness and comfort, the same Lucas always gave Eliott.

Nodding silently, Lucas averted his gaze once again, feeling shame at even having brought it up. He pulled his forehead away completely, tilting his head down to the floor, his cheeks flushing red at the embarrassment of showing this ridiculous insecure side of himself to a man who has given him nothing but love and reassurance since the beginning.

“Hey,” that same softness, and a hand reaching up to Lucas’s chin to tilt his head back up, meeting his eyes. A callback to all those times Lucas had done the same. The tunnel, the minute-by-minute talk. Always pulling one another back together. “Yes, baby. Yes, it was him in the movie.”

It should’ve stung, but it didn’t. Looking into Eliott’s eyes, Lucas saw nothing but adoration. Nothing but love and trust. Nothing but the gaze of a man who he loved, and who loved him just as deeply in return.

“But, it’s you now. Don’t you see?” A light shake of Lucas’s head by the hands cradling his face softly, a light call-out, _can’t you see how in love with you I am?_ “It’s you. It’s been you since the moment I saw you.”

Lucas made a soft whimpering noise in response, no longer tipsy off the remaining alcohol in his system but now off the returning blossoming of warmth and adoration deep in his stomach, in his heart, in his arms and legs and head and toes and fingertips and all over, all over.

Eliott smiled softly at the sound, recognizing his boy’s inability to put into words how much this reassurance means to him, but knowing it all the same.

“I love you, Eliott.”

A spreading grin on his face at the words, the older boy was quick to press his lips against the pout of the younger one.

He will never understand it, how this sixteen-year old boy could have stolen as much of his heart as he did.

He had never felt at home anywhere. Even when he was friends with Idriss and Sofiane and the others, Eliott never felt at home.

Out of place in his mind, out of place in the world, he never thought anyone could make him feel the way Lucas did.

So when Lucas outstretched his fingers that one pivotal night, the hope flickering in his eyes ignited something within Eliott he had never felt before. Someone was here. Someone was here, with hands and heart outstretched, _wanting_ Eliott. For all that he was.

And each and every day, this wonderful young boy did nothing but make sure Eliott never forgot that.

In the small gestures, like giving him a peck on the cheek when pulling himself out of his arms from where they were snuggled on the couch to grab more snacks, or running his fingertips softly over Eliott’s when they’re tangled up together and chatting with their friends, to the larger ones. Lucas staying during his episodes. Lucas not pressing him, to drink less or to smoke less or to talk when he’s down or even look at him when he can’t bring himself to open his eyes. Lucas being honest and open, like he was tonight.

Lucas telling him he loves him.

Breaking away from their kiss, Eliott breathed those words that ran through him at every second of every minute of every day,

“I love you so much, Lucas.”

Huffing out that soft laugh Eliott loved so much, the last traces of shame or guilt for what he was feeling vanished from Lucas’s face as he pressed up again for more kisses.

Hands sliding across each other’s cheeks and jawlines, into each other’s hair, arms being tossed around each other’s necks, wrapping around each other’s waists, they tangled themselves together so the only part of them not touching were their lips when they would pull apart for air, before diving right back in for more soft and languid kisses.

Walking them backwards through his flat, not losing his grip on the younger boy’s body and never once opening his eyes, too distracted by the dances of light and colour flickering across his mind at the mere sensation of his lips pressing against the boy he loves most in the world, Eliott slowly and without urgency guided them to his bedroom. Closed the door. Pulled off pieces of each other’s clothing, one by one. Slowly. Hands running over each other’s skin, backs, necks, abs, they tumbled together onto the bed in just their boxers, never once breaking their kiss.

Eliott scooted himself up the bed, keeping Lucas glued to his mouth with a firm hand on the back of his neck, fingers buried in the boy’s now-messy hair.

Lucas hovered over him for a while, straddling him and trading sticky and hot kisses while grinding down softly onto Eliott, eliciting a small moan from the older boy underneath him.

That was the thing, with these two.

Even in heated moments like these, they found a way to make it soft. They found a way to make it about love. Because to them, every movement of the other, every sound and every glance and every touch was nothing but love.

As Lucas’s hands, which were gripping the sides of Eliott’s face and his fingers dragging threw the hair his fingers could reach, gradually grew more insistent.

“I love you,” Eliott breathed out in between one of their kisses, one hand still planted in Lucas’s hair, the other running down his back and gripping his hip.

The slight feeling of dominance, along with Eliott’s words, caused Lucas to let out another whimper, letting go and tugging Eliott to roll them over.

Lucas now on his back, and Eliott hovering over him, Eliott slowly slid his left hand down the length of Lucas’s body as his right hand remained on his neck.

They kissed, Eliott’s lips dragging messily over Lucas’s and travelling across his jawline, near his ear, across his neck and collarbones, nibbling and leaving small marks, mapping out a constellation of love marks all across his boy.

And they looked.

They looked into one another’s eyes, small smiles spreading on their faces under hooded eyes, love drunk and sleepy and sated off of each other’s presence and the promise of what was to come.

Drunk off of each other and drunk off the feeling of finally, finally being home.

They were each other’s home.

“It will always be you.” Eliott’s whisper, made hoarse by his heavy panting and soft groans their make out session had brought out of him, raised goosebumps across Lucas’s skin.

How he managed to get so lucky, to have a boyfriend so wonderful, so full of love and light and comfort and safety and _home_ above him, looking at him like this, touching him with this much tenderness and care, he will never understand.

But, the same way he told Lucille that one fateful night where he found this very same boy and took him home, silently promising to take him for everything he is, he knew only one thing for sure.

And he would do everything in is power, each and every day, to make sure Eliott knew it too.

“I love you, Eliott.”


End file.
